Page 58 of A Festive Surprise

Chapter Nineteen

Farid

Farid wiped flour from his brow and laughed. ‘Seriously, Holly, you need baking lessons.’

‘Me? I’m not the one covered in flour.’ She folded her arms, innocently eyeing the bag she’d exploded over Farid. ‘I hope you’re not suggesting because I’m a woman I should know how to bake.’

‘I would never.’ He thrust up his hands. ‘I like my body parts too much. I can’t trust you not to cut something off if I say a thing like that.’

‘You’re not wrong.’ She scanned down his body over the stripy butcher’s apron they’d found in a drawer, and her eyes lingered below his waist. Her lips curled up. ‘And that would be a pity because I like your body too.’

‘I’m happy to hear it.’ He measured the flour with a grin splitting his face. So far, so good. He’d confessed and she was ok with it. Making her happy was his mission, one he was enjoying too much to stop.

‘I should have put on my Santa hat,’ he said, ‘and you could have worn the elf suit.’

‘Don’t even go there.’

‘You would have been such a sexy little elf, jamilati.’ He wrapped his arms around her and she squealed as he rubbed his floury hands up her sides and back.

‘Farid, seriously. Look at me.’

‘My greatest pleasure.’

‘Oh, shut up.’ She dusted herself off.

‘Now, back to business. We must mix this, then add fruit.’

‘Go for it, chef.’

Farid cracked the eggs and sifted in the dry ingredients. The rich aroma of spices filled the room. Mm… like Mama’s kitchen. He pounded the mixture with the beaters, then opened the container of fruit they’d left to stew. ‘Smells interesting.’

‘I don’t even like Christmas cake,’ said Holly. ‘It’s overrated.’

‘You will like this one.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it was made with love.’

‘Good god.’ She slapped her hand to her forehead. ‘Sounds like it’s your baby or something.’

Farid’s cheeks burned but he smiled at her deflection. How quickly she batted away the idea of love.

‘I’ve read that when we stir the cake, we make a wish.’

Holly shook her head. ‘I can’t do that.’

‘Why not?’

‘Just… I just don’t want to.’

‘Please.’ What could possibly be stopping her from doing something as ordinary as stirring a cake? ‘Look…’ He put out his arm and guided her in front of him. With shuffling feet, she let him and he slipped his hands around her waist, holding her from behind. ‘Shall I put it in?’

‘I beg your pardon.’

‘The fruit, Holly. You are naughty.’

‘I know.’ She chuckled. ‘Let me do it.’ She slid the fruit into the bowl. Farid lifted the wooden spoon, then gathered her hands beneath his. Together, they stirred the thick mixture.

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